Harwood moved a step closer. “I’m tired of the threats. I want out of India. I want to start over.”
Evander sipped his drink and watched the man carefully. “I would like to meet Mr. Taylor myself.”
“Whatever for?”
“To know who’s buying up these lands. And why.”
Harwood’s expression darkened. “Why do you care? Aren’t you tired of fearing for your life?”
“Of course I am. But that doesn’t mean I can sell our family holdings without my father’s approval.”
A flicker of frustration crossed Harwood’s face. “I’m trying to help us both.”
“By profiting more than you let on?” Evander said. “Because I suspect you’re getting a far better price if I hand over my share.”
“That land never should have been yours. My idiot brother sold it to Bryon without my knowledge.”
Evander narrowed his gaze. “Why is that land so important?”
Harwood hesitated, then shrugged. “It’s not. Not on its own. It’s the combined holdings that make the difference.”
Evander didn’t believe him. “Then you shouldn’t mind if I speak to Mr. Taylor myself. Unless you have something to hide.”
Harwood’s jaw tightened. “We’ve known each other for years, and you accuse me of deception? That’s insulting.”
“No,” Evander said. “That’s business.”
Harwood’s composure cracked. “Someone threw a rock into my mother’s bedchamber. She’s shaken.”
Evander’s eyebrows rose. “Is she all right?”
“She’ll recover. But it rattled her—and me. That’s why I want out. You’d be wise to follow suit.”
“I shall think on it.”
Harwood scoffed, throwing up his hands. “What is there to think about?”
Evander took another drink, more to buy time than anything else. Harwood’s outburst felt too practiced. Too performative. “It’s my father’s decision, not mine.”
Harwood muttered a curse. “Then convince him to sell before it’s too late.”
He strode past Evander, clearly done with the conversation. Evander turned to follow and found Olivia standing in the entry hall.
Her eyes flicked between the two men. “I heard shouting.”
Harwood offered a stiff bow. “My apologies, my lady. I was merely venting some of my frustrations.”
“Is everything all right, Joseph?” Olivia asked.
A tight, unconvincing smile stretched across Harwood’s lips. “It is,” he said with ease. But it was too smooth, too measured. “Your husband and I were just discussing some business.”
Evander’s jaw tensed. That wasn’t business. It had been pressure veiled as persuasion, and Harwood knew it.
“By shouting at one another?” Olivia questioned.
Stepping closer to her, Evander informed her, “Harwood was just about to leave.”
“I was,” Harwood agreed, his exit abrupt and purposeful as he disappeared out the main door.
